Drawbacks
by SpringsEternal78
Summary: Maybe Steve should've read the small print...


Author's note: I know ideas like this have been done before, and done well, but I couldn't resist. Hope you enjoy. Rated T for whumpage.

They were fighting against men. Regular, unenhanced human men with honest-to-God ordinary firearms. No aliens, deities, robots or Hydra tech. It almost made one nostalgic, unless you happened to be Thor. They wouldn't even be here normally; Fury had made it clear that they would only be called in on those situations that required their particularly extraordinary skill sets. However, he seemed to have retracted that statement somewhat when he called them in for this, over Tony's protests that this was beneath them. He was a little put out at being dragged away from his latest project to flick soldiers against the wall. But Fury had been as firm as ever, telling them to consider this a training exercise. It'd been several months since the world had been in eye-popping jeopardy and he didn't want them getting saggy round the middle. So here they were, sent off to the backend of Nowhere, to wade through literally hundreds of armed men while S.H.I.E.L.D personnel infiltrated the base and carefully selected captives. It was their job to watch S.H.I.E.L.D's collective back and keep them from getting overwhelmed while they did their jobs.

So everyone got into the spirit of it and Tony's short attention span allowed him to quickly get caught up in Clint's understated and Thor's overstated enthusiasm for the task ahead, deciding between them to take a tally of targets neutralised. Even Steve was keen to take full advantage of the opportunity for team-building. Since the enemy they were facing was a normal, human army consisting of men drafted from the surrounding country, Steve had requested that this be a non-lethal operation. Going lethal would have to be based on judgement calls. Fury approved and provided more tranquilisers than any of them had thought possible to furnish Natasha and Clint's weaponry. This approach would be a particular challenge to Bruce and he'd meekly suggested he sat this one out, but Steve insisted that the Other Guy needed an opportunity to learn a degree of control. He seemed to have more faith than Bruce did that 'control' was anywhere in the Hulk's vocabulary. Seeing the terrain and positioning of the base, Steve divided the team in two and set them up on opposite sides of the building; himself, Thor and Clint on the east side, and Tony, Natasha and Bruce on the west. The S.H.I.E.L.D helicopters touched down, and they flooded out among the uniformed men and women into the fray.

Clint didn't bother to go far. Once out of the chopper, he scaled the side and took up a position on the roof of the cockpit, crouching under the slowing rotations of the blades overhead. It was a good position, up on a small ridge, with a gentle slope down to the base below. He had two quivers over each shoulder, having anticipated this as an enemy of quantity over quality. He was also more than a little determined to beat the others for most K.O.s, and didn't bother to suppress a smile as his voice was the first to start the count. "One," he grinned, trying to get everyone riled up. It was working, and he was rewarded with Thor's deep laugh. Soon, all they could hear over their comms was a series of growing numbers as they racked up takedowns. The only one who didn't count out loud was Steve. It wasn't in his nature to boast, but in his head he kept track. On the other hand, no one expected Hulk to tally. They weren't even sure he could count. But when he swiped a whole group of soldiers aside (and only one showed signs of getting up so he casually flicked him in the head), he stomped away and they heard him rumble: "28." Tony laughed so hard he felt bullets ping off his faceplate before he reached out an arm and blasted his feeble attacker into an early night's sleep.

On the whole, though, there was no room for complacency. Clint in particular knew full well that even a training exercise was an extremely dangerous thing. It wasn't worth doing if it wasn't. And in spite of the sound of everyone scoring points like they were at a fairground game, they were all as sharply focussed as ever on staying safe and watching each others' backs. And they had to be, because the air was swarming with bullets. One grazed Thor's cheek and he roared as he brought his hammer down, sending a wave of lightning rippling out across the shuddering ground. A few minutes later, Natasha felt one sear a straight line across the outside edge of her right thigh. Luckily, on the west side, most of the bullets were being uselessly directed at the Hulk.

Enemy numbers were dwindling and everyone was starting to tire. The battle had been full-on frantic since it had begun and by the time Fury's people were bringing the captives back to the helicopters, they'd been holding the fort for almost two hours. Clint raised his bow for what felt like the millionth time and loosed another arrow, feeling the burn in his arms and back. "What took you so long?" he called out to the S.H.I.E.L.D personnel rushing into the helicopter to his left. They ignored him, bundling their prizes inside and climbing into the cockpit to bring the bird to life.

Somewhere on the other side of the base, Natasha had taken cover in a nook of the building walls, panting for breath. "We can't keep this up, Captain."

"We haven't received the order," Steve replied, smashing his shield into the face of a soldier. "We stay until Fury confirms everyone's out."

"Copy that."

"Uh, guys?" came Tony's voice. "We've got a problem."

"What is it?" asked Steve.

"It looks like Bruce is out of big green monster juice."

Steve's eye widened. "He's changing back?"

"Yeah."

"Get him out of there, Tony. Take him to the helicopters."

"On it."

"Natasha, I'm coming round to cover you. Take the north wall."

"Copy."

Tony landed in front of the newly returned Bruce Banner to deflect the stream of bullets and direct a pulse at their sources before he turned and, not without comment, picked up the naked doctor and took to the air. He soared in a graceful arc over the base and came down by the helicopters, covered by Clint's arrows. On the ground, Natasha made her way bit by bit round to the north side of the building, towards the east face where the others were. Nearly halfway there, she spotted Steve battling his way through to her. They made it back together and continued to defend the landing zone.

"Alright, team," Fury's voice cut into their comms. "Time to pull out. Building is clear. I repeat, building is clear. Come on home."

The retreat was easier said than done. Natasha and Steve backed up the slope together, with Clint still up on the chopper. "Thor, let's go!" Steve called to the Norse god, who was still swinging away with weary belligerence. The blond obeyed, turning and running up the hill towards the lz, where the other helicopters were already taking to the air. Clint slipped down from the roof and scrambled inside to get behind the yoke, waking her up for take off. Even Tony came to join them, too exhausted to want to fly. He climbed in alongside Natasha, who was still firing at the men trying to come for them. Bullets rang off the metal hull, off Tony's suit and Steve's shield. The blades were in motion and picking up speed. Steve pulled Thor inside and slammed the door across.

Tony slumped onto one of the metal benches, his face plate retracting. "That was the longest turkey shoot ever. Where did those guys keep coming from?"

"Is everyone okay?" called Clint, flipping switches. Natasha pushed past Thor to join her fellow S.H.I.E.L.D operative in the cockpit for take off.

"Oh yeah," Tony said breathlessly, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. "Peaches, baby."

"I also, am not seriously injured," Thor stated, pressing the back of his hand to his bloody cheek, and rolling a stiff shoulder.

Steve supported himself against the hull as he carefully lowered himself to the bench opposite Tony. "I'm okay."

No one else heard anything unusual in Steve's voice, but in the cockpit Clint and Natasha exchanged a look. Natasha twisted to look back into the main body of the chopper. "Steve? What's wrong?"

At this, Tony opened his eyes and sat up a bit. Thor frowned at the captain. "You're wounded," he pointed out with concern, his worried eyes on the dark shape spilling from high on the left side of Steve's abdomen, just below the ribs. A small hole, with seemingly black, glossy liquid shining in long lines down to his belt like rivers viewed from the sky.

"It's okay," Steve repeated, his chest rising and falling a little too heavily.

"Have you been _shot?_" Tony demanded in disbelief.

"Go," Clint said softly, as they rose into the air. Natasha unclipped her safety belts and climbed back out of the cockpit. She moved to sit down beside Steve as Tony admonished him.

"You've been shot, Steve. In what universe can that be described as 'okay'? Did that word have a very different meaning in the forties that I don't know about?"

"I've been shot before," he said evenly as Natasha peered intently at the entry wound. "Couple of days, I'll be good as new."

"We need to get this off," she said, indicating his body armour with her eyes.

"I'll be fine. It can wait till we get back to HQ."

She gave him a level look. "You're still human, Cap. I need to take a look."

He faltered under the steadiness of her words. They reminded him of Schmidt's assertion that, as super soldiers, they had left humanity behind. He'd hadn't left humanity behind. He nodded acquiescence and pulled off his cowl and gloves. Natasha undid the straps for his shield, pulling it from his back and setting it down on the floor.

"Think someone's got a crush on you, Spangles," Tony commented. Steve's fingers fumbled on the catches for his body armour and he looked up at Tony's face smiling from within his metal suit. Tony merely raised his eyebrows as though to say "Oh yeah. You see if I'm not right." Natasha pointedly ignored him and Steve shook it off and carried on removing the armour. He winced as he shrugged it off. Tony took it off him, inspecting the neat hole. "Armour-piercing rounds. Nasty. We should give you an upgrade."

Natasha pushed up Steve's t-shirt. "Wow," she muttered.

"Told ya," Tony grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

Natasha ignored that too. She was too busy scrutinising the injury in wonder. "It's already almost closed up."

"That's what happens when you eat your greens, kids," claimed Tony. Steve was starting to suspect his getting shot had made Ironman nervous.

"Give it another few minutes, there won't even be a mark," he said, still trying to convince everyone of the minor nature of the thing. He could choose his words, but he couldn't bring the colour back to his face or keep the tension from his body. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. He shuddered, cold.

"Let me see the exit wound," Natasha instructed, moving round to his other side. Steve shifted to turn his back towards her. She paused. "There's nothing here." Steve swayed with a quiet gasp under the throbbing of the chopper blades and Natasha instinctively placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. She pushed the shirt higher, searching.

Tony flipped the body armour over and scanned the back. "There's nothing here either."

Worry clouded Natasha's eyes. "The bullet's still inside."

Steve slumped suddenly, sideways against the hull, his chin dropping to his chest. Thor was immediately on the bench beside him, and Tony bolted up straight, against the wishes of every muscle in his body. "Captain," Thor said, taking him by the shoulders. "Captain! Awake!"

Natasha got up, supporting Steve's back. "Lie him down," she ordered. Thor obeyed, and she helped him gently lower Steve onto the bench. His t-shirt was still pulled up, keeping his rapidly diminishing wound exposed to view. Just a moment after his head came to rest on the bench though, he woke with a jolt and a sudden intake of breath, one hand going out to brace against the hull, the other gripping the edge of the bench. Natasha kept a firm hand on his shoulder. "Easy, Captain. We're almost there. What's our ETA, Clint?"

"Call it fifteen minutes." That was ambitious, but she had faith in his piloting skills.

"How deep is the wound?" asked Thor.

"I don't know," Natasha replied.

"Jarvis," Tony prompted, coming to stand between them, steadying himself against the movement of the chopper with a hand on the ceiling.

"Scanning, sir. The bullet appears to be lodged in the anterior side of the left fifth true rib approximately two inches from the spine."

"Hel's children," swore Thor in astonishment.

"How is that possible?" asked Natasha, running through her head everything she knew about anatomy. "Wouldn't that've punctured the diaphragm and stopped you being able to breathe properly?"

"It did," Steve said quietly and calmly. "I was out of your visual range at the time. It only lasted about thirty seconds."

"Jesus, Steve," Tony muttered, with an implied scolding over not mentioning it before. Steve caught it.

"It was already healing," he defended. His eyes fluttered shut and he went slack again.

"Sir," interjected Jarvis. "The bullet appears to have split the rib. The tip is buried in the fracture. The Captain's body is rebuilding the bone at a greatly excelerated rate. If the bullet is not removed, the rib will be left deformed and it will not be possible to extract the foreign object."

"What does this mean?" asked Thor, sounding alarmed.

"It means the bone is trying to knit together again," said Natasha, "only the bullet's holding the rib out of shape. Once the bone has filled the gap, it's going to grow around the bullet. We have to get it out now. Help me turn him over," she told Thor.

"Woah woah!" Tony started to protest as the Black Widow and Thor turned Steve onto his front and she pulled a knife from her belt. She flicked it open and gave Tony a look.

"We have no choice. Give me a light."

He hesitated, watching her hands run down Steve's back, her fingers counting down the ribs. She stopped. "Here?"

"Correct," said Jarvis.

She fingers moved along to two inches from his spine. Immediately she could feel that the single rib had been separated into two for almost half its length, putting a strain on the vertebrae. It just _had _to be excruciating. "Thor, come round here and hold him steady." She'd only stop and think later how remarkable it was to have been ordering a god about like he was some green S.H.I.E.L.D operative and have him obey without a flicker of hesitation. He hurried round to Steve's head and placed his big hands on his back, holding his shirt clear of where Natasha needed to work. "Tony," she said sternly. "Light."

Tony finally murmured, "Jarvis, lights," and two points of bright white light illuminated from either side of his face inside the helmet. He came and leaned over the bench at her side, shining ample light down on Steve's back. There was a groan so soft it was almost a sigh and Steve's eyes opened. "Oh my god," Tony moaned, straightening up and turning away.

"_Tony_," Natasha urged. He returned to his position.

"What's going on?" asked Steve, still sounding so calm it almost drove Tony crazy.

"Steve, the bullet's lodged in one of your ribs," she said gently. "It can't heal correctly unless we remove it." She felt her heart squeeze painfully when his eyes suddenly dilated. "There's no time. I'm sorry."

"Al- Alright," he stammered tightly. He moved his arm to take hold of the edge of the bench. She nodded, and leaned in with the knife. She felt him tense instinctively as her hands found the right position and her blade closed in, feeling a corresponding flash of heat rush through her from head to toe. But she had to get that thing out of there. Now. A flinch ran through him when her blade parted his skin, and a surge of hot red blood rushed across his back and down his side. She didn't have to look at him to know he'd squeezed his eyes shut and clamped his jaw, gripping the bench. She pushed deeper, feeling the side of her knife brush the edge of the rib and shear through the intercostal muscle, and he let out a muffled cry. And here came the hard bit. She withdrew the blade, and pushed her index finger and thumb into the incision, eliciting another quiet cry, this one less muffled. And another as she touched bone and dug round it. He jerked involuntarily, his legs and the muscles in his back going into spasm. Thor pressed down just a little firmer to kept him still.

"Tony, get his legs," Natasha ordered. The light made no difference anymore, she had to do this bit by touch. Tony grabbed Steve's legs and pinned them, still quivering, to the bench. She couldn't get the right angle. She kept having to push the wound wider in an attempt to get her finger and thumb round the front of the rib. She felt the edge of the bench which had been pressed against her stomach give way; he was twisting the steel in his grip. Her own teeth were gritted with the strain, trying to reach. Her finger found the splintered edge of the rib and as much as she wanted to say she was moving with her usual smooth efficiency, that just wasn't possible and she fumbled with increasing desperation for the bullet. Steve's breathing was coming in sharp short gasps, his rib jumping and leaping under her hands. She wanted to tell him to keep still but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was already doing everything within his power to stay still and silent. Without the pressure of battle and an incomplete mission to keep the pain muted as it had when he'd initially been shot, there was absolutely nothing to take the edge off. So she just silently willed him to pass out instead.

Her finger hit metal and her heart leapt. "I've found it," she blurted unintentionally. Now if she could just get her thumb round to grip it… As she twisted her hand, a new wave of blood welled up around her fingers, washing over the red already smeared around the wound and rolling thickly down his side to pool underneath him on the abused bench. She pushed deeper, stretching her middle finger painfully as her index delved below the surface. But though the very tip of her index could tap uselessly at the bullet, the space between ribs had been narrowed by the displacement of bone, and she just couldn't fit her fingers far enough through it. She couldn't do this. "I can't-" she gasped, realising now that she been holding her breath.

"What?" Tony started.

"I can't get my fingers between his ribs. I need _tools_."

"We don't have anything!"

"Well, I can't reach it!" she cried, finally losing what was left of her composure. "I can't magically make the gap bigger!" The moment the words left her mouth, her exasperation vanished and she went still.

If her losing her cool hadn't freaked Tony out enough, her going still certainly did. What's more, Thor's demeanour had suddenly altered just slightly. He was clearly getting something Tony wasn't. He switched his wide-eyed stare between them. "What?"

She looked up at the Asgardian, "Thor?"

He just nodded reluctantly. Tony held his hands up, "_What?_"

"Wh- What's wrong?" Steve panted.

Her response was all but a whisper. "This is going to hurt."

"Ready?" asked Thor. It was directed at Natasha but it was Steve, unable to see who Thor was looking at, who answered. His voice was strained and hoarse and barely above a murmur.

"I guess."

Natasha pulled her hand from the wound, all slick and sticky with blood, and picked up her knife again. She put it in and, aligning it to the edge of the rib, she sliced parallel to it, making the relatively small incision of just over two inches into a long gash of five inches. Steve shuddered and the bench curled further under in his grip, his back surging up and down. Tony held his legs down hard as he couldn't help kicking. But tragically, this wasn't what Natasha had been referring to. Thor took his hands off Steve's shoulder blades and pushed the tips of his fingers through the newly opened skin and muscle and between the ribs; one hand with the fingers towards Tony and the other turned so the fingers were pointed towards himself.

The moment Tony saw this he felt the blood drain from his face. Too horrified to speak, he watched as Thor tensed and pulled the ribs apart. Steve's scream tore through the air, making Clint jerk and twist in his seat to see what on earth was going on behind him, his heart pounding in his chest. Natasha pushed her fingers back into the wound and found she could get just a little deeper. She twisted, curling her finger until her nail hit the bullet. Suddenly the base of her thumb slipped inside, burying that side of her hand up to the wrist. She stretched her digits awkwardly, Steve still screaming without any signs of letting up, and she felt the bullet between her finger and thumb. She pinched it, and started pulling it like a tooth. It was stuck pretty fast, and she felt a flutter of panic that maybe the bone was already regrowing around it. It slipped from her grasp and she swore in Russian under her breath, Steve drowning out the sound. She found it again and she grasped it closer to the bone to pull again. She growled with the effort but she felt it give. She could wiggle the bullet back and forth minutely, easing the bone's grip of it, until finally it came free. She carefully manoeuvered it into a better position between her thumb and finger so she was less likely to lose it, and pulled it towards her. Her hand retracted, drawing the bullet, shining a glossy ruby red, from Steve's back. The moment she was clear of Steve's ribs, Thor let go and Steve's screaming dissolved into exhausted, breathless moans. Natasha was panting heavily as she held up the bullet to inspect it. It was all in one piece, thank god.

She turned to her 'patient', looking into his white, sweat-sheened face. She placed her unbloodied hand on his shoulder. "We've got it. It's over. It's all over."

Thor had moved his hands to push the two raw, oozing sides of the wound together, holding them in place. That was good and Natasha nodded at him to let him know so. She glanced down at Tony, who looked almost as pale as Steve, like he was on the verge of throwing up. He'd be alright. "Go check on Clint," she told him. "Ask him how long we have."

Tony nodded numbly and let go of Steve's now mostly still legs to turn and weave his way to the cockpit. When he got there, Clint kept his eyes on the sky as he asked, "What happened? Is he okay?"

Tony sank into the co-pilot's seat, his face ashen. Clint's eyes flicked over at his in concern. "Uh. He'll be fine," he admitted weakly. "Natasha cut into his back. Thor had to hold his ribs open while she got the bullet out," he explained.

Clint's eyes widened and he couldn't resist turning again to see the trio in the back. He said nothing as he returned his gaze to the windows. He couldn't possibly have found any words for that particular piece of information. So the pair of them sat in silence, sharing a lack of articulation for a few moments before Tony remembered what Natasha had asked him to do. "How long till we reach S.H.I.E.L.D?"

Clint checked their position and speed. "About eight minutes."

"Okay." Tony turned and leaned through the door to call out, "Eight minutes, guys."

"Got it," Natasha called back to confirm, before returning her attention to the Captain. His brow was still furrowed with pain, his breathing ragged and uneven, but his body had relaxed after the intense exertion and he lay limp and shuddering along the length of the bench. The hand that had been gripping the edge let go and he let it fall to the floor. The edge of the bench was twisted in on itself like Steve had intended on rolling it up like a newspaper. She kept her hand on his shoulder as he let his eyes close. She leaned a little closer to him and murmured, "I think we were this close to seeing the Great Tony Stark faint like a schoolgirl."

Thor chuckled deeply and a smile spread across Steve's weary face. Natasha's eyes shone. "That'll teach him for pointing out my injuries," Steve said, amusement lacing the pain in his voice.

"Maybe next time you should save him the trouble," she suggested pointedly.

Steve huffed a laugh. "What? You think I'm ever telling you anything after _that?_" She looked down and away, trying to get her head together and figure out if there was any way to bind the cut so Thor wouldn't have to hold it together. Steve's hand rose and caught her's, the one still warm and sticky with his blood, clasping the bullet. His eyes were open, and on her. "Thank you," he said. "Both of you."

Thor smiled down on him warmly. Steve couldn't see him from this position but he heard it in his voice. "You are quite welcome, Steven. You bore the agony with unmatched valour."

"Valour?" Steve questioned. "Amazing you could pick up on that through all the screaming."

"You had hands in your back," Thor returned lightly, "it warranted some screaming."

Steve grinned as a shiver rushed through him. Natasha placed her other hand over his. "Almost there, Captain."

"Sure," he said tiredly. His breathing hitched and he supressed a wince. "I think I might pass out now if that's okay."

"Feel free," she agreed. He closed his eyes and a few seconds later she felt his hand relax in her's. She shared a look with Thor. "Better late than never."

Thor nodded. "Indeed. It is safe for him to sleep now?"

"I think so," she said uncertainly. "He needs the rest. Are you okay to keep holding him?"

"I am. I believe the wound has already begun to heal."

"Pretty incredible, isn't it?" she mumbled thoughtfully, half to herself. She looked down at the hand she was clasping. "But when they recruited him they probably didn't make much mention of the possible drawbacks."

"It would not have made a difference if they had," stated Thor confidently.

She looked up at him, and a smile curved at the corners of her lips at what she felt was a very astute claim. "True."

As promised, Clint had them touch down on the helicarrier a little over five minutes after Steve lost consciousness. Steve didn't wake up when the medical team came to carry him inside, or when they ran a plethora of tests, or when they transferred him to a quiet room where they could monitor his recovery. He was never far from the waking world. He responded in his mostly unconscious way to the touch of the medics, recoiling from their blood-drawing needles and moaning slightly as their hands probbed his injury. But it was a full two days later when he finally woke, and another five before Natasha and Clint's eagle eyes had seen the last traces of the pain affecting his movements.

Steve never said much about it, but it was one of those things that got around the folks at S.H.I.E.L.D; the story of how Thor and Black Widow put their hands in his back and pried a bullet from his rib while he was awake. It had been a training exercise. And like jumping on a dummy grenade, it grew to become one of the many legends of Captain America. Like so many before it, and even more to come.

The end.


End file.
